petalloso:

“Jesus, Minyard,” Wymack says. “What have I said about breaking things?”

“My bad,” Andrew says, and tosses the racquet aside.

Neil rises slowly, arm still pressed to his gut. When he looks at Andrew his eyes are wide and afraid and the wrong color. 

“Andrew,” he says. At the sound of him Andrew almost reaches out, to steady his unsteady stance, to hold him.

“You know each other?” Wymack says.

Yes, better than anyone. Better even than myself.  

“No,” Andrew says. 

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